


Patched Up

by d00dle2013



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 4x15 Self Control, Bus Kids - Freeform, Canon Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Serious Injuries, medical talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d00dle2013/pseuds/d00dle2013
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring the Bus Kids, Jemma, Fitz, and Daisy, and instances that they have had to patch each other up, either physically, emotionally, or both.





	1. Patched Up

**Chapter Summary: A mission against the Watch Dogs leads to Daisy facing down a new weapon developed specifically to take her down. FitzSimmons drops everything to take care of their Daisy.**

 

* * *

 

 

 

There was not one part of Daisy’s body that currently wasn't screaming in pain.

Daisy let out a barely suppressed groan as she lifted her pounding head from its resting place on the cold concrete ground to glance around at her surroundings.

Her vision had a slight spin to it, her ears rang, and something warm and wet was running from one of her nostrils.

How had she gotten here, laying face down on the ground when she had been fighting only moments before?

She suspected that she had been unconscious for at least a few moments, as her last fully coherent moments were centered around her having the upper hand against a cluster of 3 retreating Watchdogs, and not 3 fully armed and angry looking men converging on her resting place.

The two men on the ends were dropped a step back from the larger more terrifying man in the center. They held a standard issue Watchdog rifle against their chests as they jogged toward her, but the one in the middle held a stranger weapon, an elongated tube ending in what Daisy would describe as a satellite dish.

An explosive?

Daisy took no chances, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees, and sent out a powerful shockwave with her right arm.

The Watchdogs stopped their advance 10 yards away and the center attacker held up the strange weapon to his shoulder, bracing himself with a low stance and weight on his back leg.

The shock wave that should have knocked the man over seemed to peter out harmlessly, the low rumble that usually accompanied an airborne quake replaced by an overwhelming high-pitched whine that seemed to vibrate the very fibers of which Daisy was composed.

Standing now, Daisy shook her head once and tried to clear the fog setting in around her thoughts. She was quite dizzy, and it made her a little off balance as she settled into a fighting stance.

The central Watch dog grinned a little. He twisted the barrel of the weapon and the dish at the end contracted into a cone. The movement seemed a little familiar. Daisy could feel the vibrational energy building up in the tube.

Oh shit. Right. That thing was how she ended up bleeding on the ground in the first place.

The weapon released its pent up energy. A low rumble burst forth from the end of the satellite dish end and the air became unsettled around Daisy. Her body was too rattled to move fast enough, and the wave impacted her full on in the chest.

Daisy flew backward through the air until her lower body impacted a cement barrier, flipping her head over heels over the top of it. Her left arm flew out to stop her fall, and she impacted the ground hard, her left shoulder taking the the brunt force of her body weight as she crashed into the ground. The momentum from the shock wave caused Daisy to continue tumbling and rolling away from the three men. The roll stopped when her back finally slammed into a large steel storage container and her awareness fuzzed out.

Daisy was in major trouble.

Her eyes snapped back open when the vibrations of footsteps shook the ground above her head. Daisy shook her head and tried to clear the ringing in her ears. The spin in her vision hadn't gotten any better, and her stomach rolled with nausea as she blinked her eyes rapidly to try to focus her vision.

Daisy heard the unmistakable sound of ICER shotgun rounds as she painstakingly flopped onto her back, turning her head to look towards the origin of the shots.

Two Macks, or so her brain processed, ran at her, slid up next to her, and then his hands were on her, checking her over for obvious wounds.

“Tremors! Are you alright? Can you run? We gotta move!” The words were blurred in her ears like her vision and she tried to nod, yes, of course she can run. She didn't train with May for nothing!

Mack swore loudly. Oh Coulson wouldn't like that over the comms.

Fingers wrapped around her left wrist and he _pulled_ , and Daisy yelled in pain.

“Oh shit. Okay not that arm. I'm sorry Tremors. You’re gonna be okay!”

A much more gentle touch pulled her into a sitting position, and then lifted her to her feet. Mack stood gingerly and tucked the smaller woman against his side, his fingers grasping her utility belt behind her hipbone.

“Sorry, kid, you’re gotta have to move your legs. We have a few Watchdogs between us and help.”

Daisy giggled a little and tucked her left arm between their bodies and grabbed a fist full of Mack’s shirt with the other hand. Her legs didn't seem to want to work, but Mack was doing most of the work. He held her weight and steered her so her eyes could stay closed. The dizziness wasn't as bad when she couldn't see the world moving.

Daisy stayed there, tight against his side, until Mack pulled her through the halls and into the central room of the factory where communications and other support Agents are pulling back end. They stopped the mad dash, and Daisy’s knees finally stopped supplying the half support of her weight as she collapsed into Mack's Side, her body swiftly leaving the ground behind as Mack lifted her into his arms.

Mack’s booming voice rumbled through the small room.

“Simmons! Simmons, we need some help!”

Daisy opened her eyes for that. A blurred Jemma poked her head from behind a computer console, and then she was there, that fast.

“Mack, what happened? Oh, bloody hell! Set her down over here. Fitz! Bring the trauma kit!”

“She got hit with some kind of weapon, it sent her powers right back at her, twice. She wasn’t very responsive to me when I tried to talk to her. I had to move her, more Watchdogs were coming in fast,” Mack recalled quickly. Daisy felt herself being lowered to the cold concrete.

Wait, he had been talking to her? Maybe Daisy was more hurt than she thought. Everything felt alright to her now, except for the cold hand, hands, and her head. And everything else. Oh dear.

“Mack, I need you to stabilize her neck so that I can check her over,” Jemma said quickly. Daisy opened her eyes again to see her friends leaning over her. Her gauntlets were quickly unbuckled and removed.

Fitz slid into view, a blue duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

Fitz didn't say anything, he only handed off the bag, and reached down and squeezed Daisy’s right hand. She squeezed back, and his hand pulled away.

Jemma worked quickly, she placed her fingers on Daisy’s neck to take a quick pulse with one hand and fumbled in the bag with the other. A bright light shone in Daisy’s eyes and she cried out, turning her head away. Hands quickly returned her head to facing forward, holding her head at both temples.

Jemma furrowed her brow, “Daisy, Agent Johnson, did you hit your head?”

Daisy blinked a few times. It was hard to find her voice. “Maybe, I don’t remember, I think I hit my head too hard.”

Jemma let out an exasperated sigh, “Daisy, this is not the time to…”

“Jem, i think my arm is broken again. It hurts right here” Daisy interrupted and reached across to touch the front of her left shoulder. Jemma pushed Daisy’s hand away, brow furrowed.

“What happened to your arm, Daisy?”

“My arm?” Daisy reached up again to touch the front of her left shoulder, running her fingers over her collarbone, “My hand is cold. My left one. Simmons is going to kill me”.

“Daisy, I’m right here”. Simmons tried not to let the panic show on her face.

Oh. Right. That probably wasn’t good.

“No, no it’s not, Daisy!”

Wait, had she said that out loud?

Jemma turned behind her, calling out directions “Agent Davis, get on the radio, we need a medical evac at our position immediately. Agent Johnson has a head injury and is quickly deteriorating.”

“Roger that, Agent Simmons, I will get the quinjet here as soon as I can.”

Jemma turned back to the task at hand, smoothing down Daisy’s hair, “you’re going to be okay, Daisy, I’ve got you.”

Jemma busied herself with getting Daisy ready for transport. She pulled down the zipper of Daisy’s jacket and used her medical scissors to cut through the black tank top underneath.  
  
Daisy giggled when the cold air hit her skin, “Jemma Simmons, are you trying to undress me?”

Jemma set her jaw and ignored Daisy’s jests. She turns her head to Fitz, “Fitz, I need you to put a cervical collar on her and keep her awake until the evac arrives.”

Daisy felt Fitz move around her so that he was above her head, his cold hands touched her neck and she shivered. He wrapped a blue plastic brace around her neck and velcroed it behind her head.

Jemma expertly placed electrodes on Daisy’s chest, and an oxygen mask was placed over her nose and mouth, filling her mouth with a strange sweetness.

Daisy’s eyelids fluttered, her adrenaline crashing, she was so tired. Her shoulder throbbed with her heartbeat. Her vision blurred and tunneled. Her hearing sharpened to a high pitched whine.

Daisy was very vaguely aware that she should not be going to sleep, but the exhaustion was taking over. Daisy could feel Fitz next to her, holding her hand, heard his voice telling her to stay with him. She could feel Jemma starting an IV on the crook of her injured left arm (“it's always so much easier to get the vein here, Daisy! I always get it on the first try!”)

Daisy blinks twice, and her awareness completely fuzzes out and fades to black.

*

There was nothing on Daisy’s body that wasn't pulsing with a low grade ache, the kind that was numbed by heavy pain medication.

There were a lot of noises in the background, a faint regular beeping, a fairly regular “click”, and what was that last one, snoring?

Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced around, trying to ground herself by identifying sources of sounds. The beeping came from the monitor next to her head, attached to the leads emerging from the top of her shirt, the clicks came from the IV machine attached the pole on her other side. And the snoring, the snoring came from _Fitz_??

And there Fitz was, sitting in one of the uncomfortable med bay chairs next to the foot of Daisy’s bed. He was facing her, his feet propped up on another chair near her head. His head was tilted back, mouth slightly open. One hand was holding his tablet to his chest, and the other hand rested on Daisy’s shin bone. Loud snores came from his mouth.

Daisy smiled to herself. She wasn't quite sure how she had gotten to the medical bay, but the fact that Fitz was there with her, keeping her company and protecting her, made her not care that much. Daisy let her heavy eyes slip closed again.

*

“Okay Daisy, I'm going to give you another dose of morphine sulfate, and some more of the bone treatment via your IV. Your clavicle is healing quite nicely with it,” the sweet voice of Jemma Simmons brought Daisy a little bit closer to consciousness.

“Jemma, do you always talk to your patients when they’re clearly unconscious?”

Someone brushed Daisy’s hair away from her face, bringing her even closer to being awake.

“Yes, Fitz,” Jemma snapped back, “ but only when it’s Daisy,” she added softly.

The aches in Daisy’s body were worse than the last time she had awoken, and she could not suppress the groan that slipped past her lips.

“Daisy? Are you awake?”

Daisy turned her head towards the sound of Jemma’s voice and experimentally opened one eye.

The room was dimly lit, thankfully, and her two best friends were staring at her hopefully from the sides of her hospital bed.

“Hey guys,” Daisy croaked, closing her eye again. The vibrations of her voice felt like gravel in her chest. It hurt, a lot, and Daisy groaned again.

Jemma placed her hand on Daisy’s right arm and spoke softly, “don't try and talk, your throat is probably a little sore from the breathing tube from your surgery this afternoon. We had to re-set your clavicle, it was still pressing on the vein in your neck.”

Daisy groaned a little again, opening her eyes to glance down at the black sling holding her left arm to her chest.

“Ow,” she says simply.

Fitz let out a low chuckle, “Do you remember what happened, Daisy?”

Daisy gave him the hand signal for “kind of”, picking up her right hand and rocking it back and forth.

“On a scale of one to 10, what is your pain?”

Daisy held up 5 fingers, and then closed her fist, and held up her middle finger.

“I’ll record that as a 7.”

Fitz laughed out loud, “at least she still has her sense of humor!”

Jemma laughed and planted a kiss on Daisy’s forehead, “she always does. Are you ready for some more pain medication?”

Daisy nods. “Fitz was snoring,” she deadpanned.

Fitz looked mortified as Jemma injected the pain medication into the IV line. Jemma only laughed, “Oh I know, Coulson was in here earlier and brought me a video. Would you like Fitz to stay with you for a little longer? I have to get back to the lab, unfortunately.”

The pain relief and fatigue rushed through Daisy’s body with the medicine, and she nodded, she needed him, needed both of them, near her.

Fitz smiled and settled himself back into his chair, he patted Daisy’s leg and picked up his tablet.

“I will be right down here, Daisy. Go to sleep,” he said, rubbing soothing circles on her shin.

Jemma placed another kiss on Daisy’s forehead and pushed her hair behind her ear.

Daisy’s eyes finally drift closed.

*

 

 

 


	2. Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Jemma/Daisy Brotp story. MAJOR spoilers for 4x15 Self control
> 
> Jemma is made of bones, real bones, and not metal.  
> Jemma and Daisy against the world. Some of the missing moments in 4x15 Self Control.

 

 

Daisy doesn't think, she just acts.

 

Her finger wrap around a wrist, she pulls, and she wraps her arms around her best friend in the entire world. Then, she quakes. _Bones, she’s made of real bones_.

 

Jemma responds instantly to the touch, as she always does, and lets out the breath she was saving for a scream. _Daisy, she’s really Daisy._

 

“Oh thank, God,” Jemma softly cries out. She tightens her arms around Daisy and leans into the embrace more fully, sobs shaking her body. It's an embrace of desperation and relief.

 

Jemma squeezes her eyes shut against the pain. The world is swimming around her and the pounding in her head is reaching a crescendo. Her injured leg finally loses any strength that it had and gives out from under her.

 

“Oh God Jem, what happened? Where are you hurt?”

 

Daisy guides Jemma to the wall on the other side of the chain link gate, helping her slide down to the floor. Her hands are running over Jemma’s body, down her sides, across her stomach, and then stops at the slickness on her leg.

 

“Shit. Okay, stay right here’” Daisy stammers, pulling away from Jemma and slipping towards the door, where her discarded sweatshirt lies.

 

“No! Don’t leave me!” Jemma cries at the loss of contact. Her eyes snap open, straining for her friend in the dim light. She reaches for her friend and falls over on her side.

 

Daisy is back in a second, pulling Jemma up to her chest in another embrace.

 

“No, no. I am NOT leaving you Jemma Simmons. Not again,” Daisy whispers in Jemma’s ear. They stay like this, muffling sobs in each other’s shoulders for what seems like an eternity. There are no words, there are none that could even possibly begin to convey the feelings.

 

“I need to stop your bleeding, Jem. Let me help you,” Daisy sniffles, leaning back from the embrace to sit on her knees.

 

Jemma falls back against the brick wall heavily, releasing a heavy sigh. The world is blurry around the edges.

 

Daisy puts her hand on Jemma’s face, bringing the other woman’s face to look at hers, “Simmons, stay with me.”

 

Jemma nods, trying to keep her eyes locked

 

Daisy withdraws her hand, and starts tearing the gray S.H.I.E.L.D sweatshirt into strips.

*

 

Daisy knows she’s losing Jemma as the minutes tick by.

 

Every chance Jemma has to slip back into the maelstrom of her mind, Daisy watches Jemma slip away from that small closet to relive killing the Not-Fitz over and over again.

 

Daisy is trying to be gentle while she tends to her friend’s wounds, but Jemma still occasionally makes a small noise of pain every so often. It reminds Daisy of the so many times that the roles were reversed, where Jemma pulled Daisy back together piece by piece.

 

So when Jemma starts to lose her hope, and fall back into the hysterical, feral person that Daisy found in that storeroom not 10 minutes before that moment, Daisy starts to talk, she starts to give the pep talk that both women so desperately need.

 

This is **not** how their story ends.

 

*

 

They find an ATV covered in a dark tarp in the closet, and Daisy begins to flesh out her half formed plan.

 

A glimmer of light has come back into Jemma’s eyes. She taps away at the tablet that Daisy brought to the storage room, programing the emergency automatic driver on the ATV. Her hands still shake, her eyes still struggle to focus, but in the moment she holds herself together as she works with purpose.

 

Daisy busies herself with the task at hand. She finds long fabric straps to lash the sleeping gas tanks together, and straps them to the seat of the vehicle, the remote explosive is placed on the top of the tanks. Daisy nods in satisfaction at her work. It’s rudimentary, but it’ll work.

 

Jemma passes Daisy the tablet, “You’re better at video games that I am. You drive the ATV.”

 

Daisy’s hands shake slightly when she takes the tablet. She plays with the controls for a moment, moving the ATV backwards and forwards until she understands the basic controls.

 

“Are you ready?” Daisy asks Jemma softly. Jemma nods once.

 

“Let me give you the antidote for the gas,” She says.

 

Daisy hisses as Jemma administers the sleeping gas antidote shot to her arm. The solution burns as it enters her bloodstream. The burn gives her a surge of adrenaline.

 

Jemma opens the door to the storage room, and Daisy hits the ignition to the ATV. She watches closely on the screen as she scuffs the ATV against different walls until she masters the steering on tablet. Then, she punches it.

 

The ATV careens around corners as Daisy steers it towards the lounge, aiming for just under the air intake system. She steers the vehicle into the pillar under the vent, and detonates. The screen goes black as the explosions rocks through the base. Mission phase one, accomplished.

 

Daisy looks at Jemma for a long second, and closes the distance between them, wrapping the other woman in a fierce hug.

 

“I love you, Jemma Simmons. Don’t you die out there.”

 

Jemma returns the embrace, small tremors shaking her injured body.

 

“I love you too, Daisy Johnson,” She whispers in return.

 

Daisy kisses Jemma on the cheek and pulls away. She picks up Mack’s shotgun axe and stands at the door. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the fight ahead.

 

“Daisy!” Jemma calls out. Daisy stops and turns toward the other woman.

 

“Destroy them for me,” Jemma says, a steely look on her face.

 

Daisy nods, rolls her shoulders, and steps out into the hallway.

 

*

 

Everything _burned_.

 

Daisy has been shot before, much worse than this, but God it has never burned this much.

 

She collapses against the wall next to the doorway at the rendezvous point. She could hear Jemma’s voice, hopefully addressing Piper, Davis, and Prince, and she pushed on. One… more… step…

 

“Okay. Okay!”

 

Daisy was back in Jemma’s arms, feeling her bones supporting the both of them. Daisy’s left leg won’t support her weight any more, and she feels blood starting to run down the back of her shoulder.

 

May’s strike team is standing in front of her, the look of a deer in the headlights plastered across all three of their faces.

 

Daisy bares her teeth against the pain and takes control of the situation before it spirals completely out of control.

 

“Anyone here know how to fly the Zephyr?”

 

Agent Davis looks between his friends, a little panicked, “I - I just started training,” He stutters.

 

Daisy nods a little, the agent sliding in and out of focus, “Okay, well you’re gonna try real hard.”

 

Jemma adjusts her grip on Daisy’s waist and gives the agents further directions, “You three can walk better than we can, so drag any unconscious bodies out of this sector before the fire spreads, then open the hangar door and meet us on the Zephyr. Daisy and I will load in this hardware.”

“And remember, anyone you see who’s awake…”

 

Piper smirks, “Is a robot, super.”

 

The three strike team agents disappear into the dark hallway as Jemma leads Daisy over to the cart containing all of their hardware. Daisy puts both hands on the cart, and can still barely hold up her weight. She leans a little on Jemma.

 

“I need medical,” Daisy quips.

 

That is the statement that truly frightens Jemma. Daisy avoids medical unless she knows it’s absolutely necessary, which has often resulted in Jemma discovering Daisy in the lab trying to patch herself up in the middle of the night after missions.

 

The two women move slowly towards the Hangar, waiting for something to come around the dark corners of the base hallways and attack them.

 

Jemma slaps open the door to the hangar, they are almost there.

 

And there is May. No, it’s Not-May, just like Not-Fitz.

 

“May, think about what you’re doing,” Daisy says, fear hiding behind her voice.

 

“I am,” The robot replies, her hand is curled around a bright red button. The robot’s voice sounds exactly like May’s. But she isn’t May.

 

“Please, do you want us to die?”

 

“Coulson says it doesn’t matter”

 

“That doesn’t sound like Coulson.”

 

“Either way, I don’t have to regret this decision,” The LMD replies.

 

Jemma squeezes her eyes shut tight, bracing for the heat and pain of the explosion, but it never comes. She lets one eye come open, and Not-May has opened the last door to the hangar. They are free.

 

Jemma is practically carrying Daisy by now, one arm around her waist, and the other trying to steer the cart of computer hardware into the cargo bay of the Zephyr. Daisy is fading fast.

 

It’s a fight to get Daisy into the cockpit of the Zephyr, both of the women’s adrenaline crashing. They should be running, they should be sprinting to the cockpit, but Jemma is struggling to even lift her injured leg to put it in front of the other.

 

Daisy loses her footing and they almost fall, but Jemma holds her up, “no! No, keep going!” Jemma cries, trying to give Daisy her strength. It's waning though.

 

The second time Daisy stumbles, Jemma can’t get her back up. Jemma looks around helplessly until she hears three sets of footsteps approaching. Piper waves her arm and Jemma steps back as Piper takes over half-walking/half-carrying Daisy to the cockpit. There’s not time to waste yet.

 

Jemma stumbles forward into the cockpit to help Davis get the plane in the air. He yells out commands to the other agents on the plane. It's a team effort to get off the ground.

 

Agent Piper buckles Daisy into the seat, Daisy is losing the fight to not pass out. The edges of her vision are fuzzy and dark, there the burning has become a sharp pain. The world is spinning. Her chest heaves with each breath. Her ribs are screaming. Her face is throbbing.

 

The sounds of an explosion overwhelm the sounds of the engine and Daisy is sure that this is it, this is the end, as she cries out and is too weak to keep herself from being thrown sideways. The Zephyr stabilizes and Piper helps Daisy sit back up in the seat.

 

Jemma reaches back and grabs Daisy’s hand, Daisy uses the very last of her strength reaches forward and grabs her fingers. She holds on for just a moment, reveling in the fact that they made it, and she and Jemma made it out.

 

Then, she drops Jemma’s hand as she finally passes out, her head lolling and body going slack against the harness.

 

“Daisy? Daisy!” Jemma fumbles to get her seat crawls out of her seat and nearly climbs over the back of her chair to get to Daisy

 

Piper has already beaten Jemma to it, she’s already unstrapping Daisy from the harness.

 

Jemma places her fingers on Daisy’s wrist to find a pulse, and is alarmed to feel a much weaker she would like.

 

“We need to get her to the medical pod immediately,” Jemma frantically stammers.

 

“Prince, help me!” Piper calls as she pulls Jemma’s arm over her shoulder. Prince unhooks his harness and lifts Daisy into his arms, moving quickly to get the injured agent to medical.

 

Jemma is running on nothing but adrenaline and utter fear. She can't lose Daisy. She CAN’T. She lets out a sob as Piper assists her to the medical bay.

 

Prince charges ahead and lays Daisy on a gurney, opening and closing cupboards looking for the trauma medical kit.

 

Jemma breaks away from Piper and stumbles the last few steps into the medical pod, already planning her course of treatment. She takes the intravenous line package from Piper’s hands and starts feeding for a vein in the crook of Daisy’s elbow. Piper busies herself attaching monitoring equipment to Daisy, sticking electrodes on her chest and a pulse-ox monitor to her finger.

 

“Prince, I need you to go into the blood stores and get a unit of Daisy’s blood, also bring me clotting drug 3,” Jemma calls out. She takes a pair of medical scissors and cuts the bloody sweatshirt away from Daisy.

 

“Piper, I need you to help me turn her over. We need to stop the bleeding.”

 

Her hands are covered in Daisy’s blood. It washes the synthetic blood of the not-Fitz.  

 

She digs the bullet out of Daisy’s shoulder. She makes sure to double check for pearly white bones under the muscles she’s stitching together.

 

Slowly and methodically, she pieces Daisy’s body back together, tears streaming down her face.

 

*

 

Later that night, after she has stitched the two of them back together, after Daisy’s blood pressure and oxygen levels have stabilized, Jemma lays on one of the low cots in the cargo bay with her leg elevated and an ice pack on her aching head. She has taken some pain medication, she feels the fuzziness in her mouth and in her stomach. She is exhausted, but she can’t sleep. Her head is too loud, her worries too great, and every time her eyes close, she is stabbing Not-Fitz in the chest.

 

Jemma turns her head to the right to glance over at Daisy on the next cot. She has stabilized, even woken up, but both Jemma and Piper felt more comfortable keeping her close and hooked up monitoring equipment. They came too close to losing her today. They came too close to losing everyone today.

 

Daisy’s eyes are open, a little glazed over from pain medication, but they are alert and not completely filled with pain or fear.

 

“Hey,” Jemma whispers, "how you feeling?”

 

“Hey yourself,” Daisy counters, “the room is a little spiny,” She lifts her head and glances around with a slight grunt. She touches her left eye and winces, she touches the black sling holding her right arm close to her.

 

“We made it though,” Daisy gives Jemma a small grin. Jemma gives her a half grin in return, “barely,” she says, “I didn't think we were going to make it off the ground for a little bit.”

 

“But we did Jem,” Daisy reaches out to Jemma and grabs her hand, “we did the impossible again.”

 

Jemma can tell that Daisy is hurting, her eyes are glassy and far away, her face pulled into a grimace. Sensing Daisy’s need for comfort, Jemma drops Daisy’s hand and slowly, painstakingly, drops her good leg to the ground. Daisy makes a discontented noise and looks at Jemma.

 

“Hold on, Daisy. I have an idea.”

 

Jemma uses her uninjured leg to scoot her cot closer to Daisy’s. When the two cots are close enough, she lays back down and scoots up against her best friend. It hurts to lay on her side, but she needs the comforting touch of Daisy just as much as Daisy needs hers.

 

Daisy murmurs and snuggles closer to Jemma’s embrace. Her body relaxes with the touch.

 

Jemma isn't sure if it's the pain medication, the close contact with her friend, or a combination of the two, but her eyes drift closed, and there are no horrors hidden behind them. She finally drifts off to sleep.

  
  



	3. Unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directions: Take 1 Tablet every 6-8 hours for relief of moderate to severe pain. Daisy takes 2 tablets every 4 hours. She tries to fill the void that has settled in the center of her chest.

**Summary** _ : Directions: Take 1 Tablet every 6-8 hours for relief of moderate to severe pain.   _ Daisy takes 2 tablets every 4 hours. She tries to fill the void that has settled in the center of her chest.

 

**Notes:** This is a pretty heavy one guys. Daisy was not well at the beginning of season 4, and this one-shot revolves around her trying to fill the void inside through the wrong process. 

 

**Warnings for: suicidal thoughts, drug and alcohol use/abuse, self abuse and sex (actually the first sex scene I've ever written? Man I hope it doesn't suck).**

 

*

 

Everything has completely fallen apart around her, and Daisy does not know how much longer she can hold steady.

 

There is a void somewhere within her, and when she thinks about it, it reminds her of the Temple in San Juan, with thick walls meant to keep people in, or to keep people out. And in the center, the heart of the void, the memories of someone who sacrificed themselves for her. 

 

So Daisy tries to fill the void, like Jemma did to the temple with the ocean.

 

She begins the process with pulling everything she has from her bank account, and running away, running as far away from the Playground as she can get, and then she buys a shitty van.

 

Daisy finds some comfort in the van, it brings back memories of when days were simpler, when it was just her, her van, her laptop, and the network of hackers of the Rising Tide. 

 

But she isn't that person anymore. She isn't the naive young hacktivist that lived in a rickety old van, releasing classified information in hopes to change the world. (Even though she has changed the world now, more than once).

 

She isn't Skye anymore. She isn't even sure that she’s Daisy anymore at this point. She feels bare and stripped to the bones, with a void hollowed out somewhere where her heart and lungs once were. 

 

One particularly painful afternoon, on an impulse, Daisy buys a 6-pack (FitzSimmons favorite) while she fuels up the van. She ends up drinking all 6 bottles. Her tolerance is so low, and her stomach so empty, that she ends up more drunk that she thought that she would be.

 

Daisy notices that the buzz from the alcohol makes the withdrawal symptoms less severe and dulls her self-hatred to an annoying murmur in the back of her head. She understands why Lincoln was so drawn to the stuff.

 

She spends the better part of a month searching at the bottom of different bottles for the floor of the seemingly endless void inside of her chest. She searches in plastic vodka bottles found in convenience stores, and in the bottoms of empty shot glasses in seedy bars in Southern California. 

 

One night, 5 or 6 weeks after she leaves the playground, she follows her search to a sketchy dive bar somewhere near the border of California and Mexico.

 

Daisy is buzzed on cheap tequila, (and possibly something else slightly less legal that someone was passing out between the restrooms) when another woman seems to take more interest in Daisy than she's used to receiving as of late. She’s tall, taller than Daisy that is, with long light brown hair and kind green eyes, and a laugh that starts a warm pool of feelings in Daisy’s belly.

 

The woman laughs at Daisy’s self-deprecating humor, and her long fingers brush Daisy’s hand as she buys her another shot, or two, or three, Daisy loses count. 

 

She isn't bothered by the attention and the extra drinks. The liquid fire she drinks burns her throat, it dulls the emotional pain she feels so strongly. The attention gives her a moment to focus on something other than the crushing feelings of loneliness and guilt in her chest.

 

It isn't much longer into the night when the suitor has Daisy pressed against the wall of the disgusting bathroom, hands pinned beside her head and a mouth hungrily seeking entrance to her lips or nipping at her pulse point

 

“Do you want to get out of here?” The woman whispers between kisses. 

 

Daisy does want to, but there is the issue of the van, and Daisy doesn't think that she can walk much further than the parking lot a street or two over where she left the van.

 

“I live in a van!” Daisy drunkenly confesses. The woman, Mallory she remembers, breathes seductively in Daisy’s ear, “I know, I don't mind.”

 

Daisy is a goner from that point. Her rational mind is not operating, doesn't see why this should be against her better judgement, or she just doesn't care. She stumbles out the front door of the bar, leaning heavily on the taller woman in order to walk a straight line. Mallory has an arm wrapped around the back of her hips, a thumb through the belt loop, and is holding Daisy right up against her body. It isn't in a forceful way, but in a protective and supportive way, like she doesn't want Daisy to worry that she will fall, or stumble. 

 

Mallory is different from the others Daisy has been with. She has Miles’s intelligence, but not his defiance. She has Ward’s strength, but nothing else from that (thankfully). And she has Lincoln’s kindness. But she is not any of them. Honestly, she reminds Daisy more of Simmons, and a pang of emptiness echoes through her body. 

 

Mallory helps the stumbling Daisy into the red van, closing the sliding door shut behind them. Her lips return to Daisy’s with a renewed fervor, pulling the other woman toward the pile of blankets that has become Daisy’s sleeping quarters. She pushes Daisy back against the wall of the van and straddles her hips with her legs.

 

Daisy takes the affection gratefully, thankful that the emptiness is being filled with fire and longing instead.

 

Malory’s hands slide up Daisy’s sides, fingers barely grazing the surface of her skin and leaving goose flesh behind. Daisy lets out a loan moan, causing Malory to chuckle softly.

 

Her hands slide across the surface of Daisy’s stomach, dipping lower and lower with each pass. Her hands pause at the waistband of Daisy’s jeans, and she pulls away from the kiss. Daisy looks at Mallory’s face as the other woman removes one hand from the button of her jeans and places her hand on Daisy’s cheek. 

 

“Is this okay?” She asks, voice soft and filled with gentle energy.

 

Daisy nods, unable to speak. She may be drunk, she may be messed up, but she does want this. She wants to feel anything else than the pain. 

 

Their touches are filled with fire and lust, and Daisy catches the feelings of longing shared in Mallory’s eyes as she uses her deft fingers to bring Daisy to her end, her back arching as she cries out. 

 

Daisy awakens the next morning with a splitting headache and her body wrapped another the other woman. Her bare chest is pushed against the smooth skin of Malory’s back, nose pushed into her shoulder and her toes brushing up against the taller woman’s calf muscles. Daisy panics for a moment. 

 

Her memory of the night before is a little spotty. She remembers getting to the van, and what happened after, but the rest of the night is a tad fuzzy.

 

Daisy remembers the woman being incredibly kind and gentle, much more than Daisy deserved. She even held her afterwards and rubbed her back in soothing circles. It was nice. 

 

She doesn't deserve this, but not wanting to wake Mallory, she allows herself to enjoy the warmth of another body next to her. 

 

A little while later, Mallory takes a deep breath, and rolls over to face Daisy. 

 

“Hey there,” she says with a smile, looking into Daisy’s eyes. She looks so genuinely happy to see Daisy, that Daisy’s stomach plummets. The poor woman has no idea the minefield that she’s stumbled into. 

 

“Hey,” Daisy whispers back. Mallory pushes a lock of Daisy’s hair out of her face. Daisy looks away, up towards the roof of the van. Mallory’s stomach rumbles, and even Daisy can't keep herself from smirking. 

 

“You hungry? I’m buying,” Mallory asks, laughing at herself. 

 

Daisy hesitates for a moment. She is quite hungry, she’s not sure when the last time she ate was, and she's sure that a good meal would do wonders for the hangover that she's working on, but taking advantage of this woman’s kindness doesn't seem right. 

 

“I don't know…” Daisy trails off.

 

“No, I insist, you let me stay over last night,” Mallory says. And there’s that smile again, Daisy is finding it impossible to resist this smile.

 

“Okay, but just something cheap, like McDonalds or something.”

 

They don't go somewhere like McDonalds. Instead, Daisy finds herself sitting across a booth from Mallory, sipping on one of the best cups of coffee that she’s had in a long time. 

 

Malory doesn't push Daisy to talk much, but asks her small things, what her favorite color is (black), what her favorite breakfast food is (pancakes!), and if she’d seen any good movies lately. Daisy is actually enjoying herself, smiling a little bit in between bites of pancakes. It makes her chest hurt. 

 

As Daisy is taking the last few sips of her coffee, Malory reaches across the table and catches Daisy’s hand, causing Daisy to look up from her coffee. 

 

“I would really like to see you again,” Malory says softly, her eyes soft and almost pleading.

 

Daisy’s stomach drops into her feet, her heart jumps up into her throat. This is what she was afraid of. This woman, this Malory, was too kind, to wonderful to be with a person like her. Where Daisy went, Death followed.

 

Daisy shakes her head, “No, I'm really sorry. I’m just not good for you. I am a walking disaster.”

 

Malory’s face falls, and Daisy’s heart breaks, guilt filling her body. “There’s nothing I can say to convince you otherwise, is there?” 

 

Daisy shakes her head again, looking down at her coffee, “No, I'm really sorry though. Last night was, really nice.” 

 

Mallory nods. She pulls out her wallet and lays out some money for the bill. 

 

She also pulls out a pen and scribbles a number on a napkin, “Well, if you change your mind, go ahead and text me.” 

 

And with one last smile, she’s gone. 

 

Daisy groans and drops her head to the table. Drunk Daisy is going to get sober Daisy in more trouble than she’s worth. 

 

Daisy tucks the napkin in her bag anyway. 

 

It only takes another week and Daisy waking up after a night of heavy drinking with the van in a place that she didn't remember parking it before she started drinking, to swear off the alcohol. 

 

*

 

“This group is calling itself the ’Watchdogs’. They have taken responsibility for the attacks on the Inhumans in the area. We received a statement from them, and I quote, that they are “Riding the Earth of this inhuman plague,’” The radio report fills the van.

 

Daisy clenches her fist, guilt washing over her.  Instead of protecting her people, she had been hiding and licking her wounds, indulging in selfish coping mechanisms. Daisy decides she's going to do what she should have been doing all along. she's going to do something about the Watchdogs.

 

She gets a police scanner for the van, and she starts listening at all times, no matter where she is.  She sits in McDonald’s parking lots during the day and motels during the night for the wifi, and watches the internet, social media, Reddit, Facebook, for any snippets of information that would lead her to the Watchdogs. 

 

And then, after a few frustratingly empty days and long, empty nights, Daisy hits a break through.

 

She's reading a coroner’s report (one that she stumbles across on a shady conspiracy subreddit on a fluke) that shows a picture of a watchdog mask tattoo on the man’s left hand. 

 

Daisy is in. She has his name now, she can trace his involvements through her dark net contacts.

 

It only takes her a few more days until she uncovers part of a network of the Watchdogs, and what she finds makes her sick to her stomach.

 

The Watchdogs. Are. Everywhere.

 

*

 

Daisy sits on the bed at a shabby motel in rural Wyoming, her right arm is bound to her chest with a makeshift sling, still throbbing in pain from the last display of power somewhere near Fargo, North Dakota the day before. She can still hear the crack of her bones echoing in her head as she tried to escape the advancing line of watchdog soldiers. 

 

She can almost hear the voice of Jemma Simmons scolding her for not wearing her gauntlets, but they aren't exactly conducive to the low profile she had been trying to hold as she moved through the city. A wave of guilt washes over her. 

 

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a white pharmacy bottle with OxyIR 5mg written on the side in black sharpie. It took her a little while to hunt down a prescription drug dealer in the area, but she managed to use some contacts online to track down a guy that was selling the pills that she was seeking.

 

Daisy had taken oxycodone a few times for various injuries she had sustained in the line of duty, and found that she could function pretty well while taking the medicines lower doses. It always gave her a weird rush of energy, but Jemma said that was normal. (Of course, every time she had been given the medication, she was coming off of morphine, Jemma and Lincoln’s secret “keep Daisy in bed” weapon, which would knock Daisy out for hours at a time, so anything less than that felt like a whole new level of energy).

 

Daisy pushes the memories away, and pops 2 pills in her mouth, dry swallowing them and grimacing at the taste (she fights off the urge to wash them down with a swallow of vodka from a bottle that sits at the bottom of her bag, knowing the path that would lead to).

 

It takes 20 minutes, but a feeling of heaviness starts in her stomach, and the intense pain is finally lessened in arms and hands. Her eyelids get a little heavier. 

 

The physical pain isn't the only thing that is lessened, the medicine brings the emotional pain down to a manageable level as well. Daisy lets out a breath that she had no idea that she had been holding. Muscles in her back and neck relax, and she melts into the bed. 

 

She can find the edges of the void that have hardened over the past 4 months. The edges of what she’s been trying to fill with alcohol, penance, and self destruction.

 

The last 4 months have been hell. She's robbed banks, brought down bridges, and created a vigilante hellion to drown the pain and the guilt. 

 

Now all she wants is this quiet. She aimed to just take the edge off of the pain in her arms, just so that she could continue the fight. It seems that she overshot a little.he pills make everything quiet, the pills make her feel okay again. It makes Daisy want to swallow the entire bottle and just drift away… 

 

Daisy drifts to sleep, and doesn't open her eyes until 1:30 the next afternoon. She swears and picks up her things quickly. She wanted to be back in California by now, following up on some leads.

 

Maybe she should call Elena and take her up on her help after all. She’s sure that SHIELD would have a medication that would get her back into the fight without the massive fatigue. 

 

(And possibly something that let her feel the pain, but didn't stop her from fighting)

 

*

  
  


Being back at SHIELD, it hurt. It hurt worse than her badly broken arm, it hurt worse than the healing gunshot wound in her shoulder. It just hurt. 

 

Fitz only spoke to her when he was required to, which stung even more than the words that he had yelled at her only a few days before. 

 

May had yet to even give her a glance, at least, not until she was on the other side of the locked cafeteria door in the prison. 

 

She is not going to let anyone else die, especially not when she could take their place.

 

After May and Coulson save her, Daisy finally lets herself realize what she was trying to do to herself by locking herself in that room. She feels slightly disconnected from the world around her for the remainder of the time that they're in the prison, often having to rely on May’s firm grip on her elbow to steer her where she’s going.

 

The adrenaline finally wears off when she's walking up the ramp onto the Zephyr and her knees decide to drop out from under her.

 

“Whoa, hey there,” Robbie says, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her arm over his shoulder. 

 

Coulson is yelling for a medic, but Daisy is shaking her head. She doesn't need anything, just an ice pack and some sleep. She just needs to slip away into the darkness.

 

Robbie mutters something to her in Spanish, and Daisy only catches every other word. She tries to piece together what he said, and someone comes up on her other side and lifts her arm, her broken arm, over their shoulder. 

 

“Hey there Daisy, I've got ya,” Daisy recognizes the voice as Fitz, and she slumps a little further down into the two men. Fitz makes a startled noise and he and Robbie change tactics to get Daisy sitting down on a crate just inside the cargo bay.

 

Her throat burns when she breathes, her breaths are coming in ragged gasps, and her head is starting to throb. Maybe a medic wouldn't be a bad idea. 

 

Two SHIELD medics come into the cargo bay pushing a gurney clearly meant for Daisy and she groans. Why can't they just let her be?

 

One medic immediately starts checking Daisy over, shining a flashlight in her eyes, unsnapping her gauntlet to find a pulse. The second man starts dropping the gurney down to load Daisy up. 

 

Daisy starts to protest when they begin to move her towards the gurney, but one look at Fitz, with his eyes wide with concern and fear, and the protests die in her sore throat. However, she doesn't hide her annoyance when the medics strap her to the gurney.

 

Robbie watches her until she's pushed around the corner leading to the medical pods, but Fitz is barely a step behind the medics. 

 

Things start to move very quickly around her in the medical pod. Fitz stands off to her left, watching the three medics assigned to the Zephyr quickly get Daisy hooked up to monitoring equipment. Her pulse is very high, and her blood pressure low. The medics get an oxygen mask on her face, and Daisy brings her unbroken hand up to push the mask away. 

 

Fitz grabs her hand before she can reach it.

 

“No, Daisy, you gotta leave it on, just for a few minutes. It'll get you out of here faster,” he says, holding her hand in his own, smiling at her. 

 

Daisy locks eyes with Fitz, and nods slightly. She takes a deep breath, the cooler oxygen filling her lungs, and helping her feel more calm. 

 

Fitz continues to hold her hand until he gets called over the loudspeaker, calling him into the lab.

 

He squeezes Daisy’s hand one last time, and disappears around the corner. 

 

It's probably for the better. 

 

*

 

Daisy barely makes it into the cargo bay before her body decides to stop supporting her and to let her drop. She props herself up against the outside of the containment module, her chest heaving with every breath, her hands trembling slightly with the effects of exhaustion. She hadn't realized how much it had exhausted her to continually trigger an explosion in Shockley.

 

Fitz and Simmons pass off their entrapment sphere to the lab technicians, and come to sit down on both sides of her. Fitz puts his arm around her and kisses the crown of her head.

 

“You did great, Daisy,” he murmurs, “We couldn't have have caught him without you”

 

Jemma presses a cold water bottle into Daisy’s hands. “Are you feeling alright?” She asks, concerned.

 

Daisy nods, despite the shaking, and takes a long drink from the water. She's exhausted.

 

Fitz helps her take off her gauntlets, Simmons presses two fingers to her bare wrist to take her pulse. 

 

“Daisy, are you sure you’re alright? Your pulse is really fast”

 

Daisy shakes her head, “I'm tired,” she mutters, dropping her head down to Jemma’s shoulder. Jemma glances at Fitz from around Daisy, he nods and pulls himself away from the two women. Daisy whines a little as he pulls away.

 

“It's okay, Daisy, I’m going to go get the first aid kit. Simmons is going to check you over right here,” Fitz says softly, crouching in front of Daisy again and placing his hand on her cheek. She nods in response, not opening her eyes, 

 

Jemma carefully checks Daisy over, trying not to disturb her dozing friend. She ends up clipping a pulse monitor on Daisy’s finger and watches her closely on the flight back, Daisy’s head never leaving her shoulder. 

 

When the plane lands, FitzSimmons gently rouse their friend and stand on both sides of her, pulling her arms over their shoulders, grabbing her around the waist and personally escort her back to her bunk. 

 

FitzSimmons gently help her settle into a sitting position on the edge of her bed. Fitz slips over to her dresser, setting her gauntlets on top and opens her top drawer, trying to find some suitable pajamas while Simmons unties her boots and pulls them off. Daisy hums in thanks. 

 

Fitz returns to the girls with a pair of soft pants and a plain gray t-shirt. He runs his fingers through Daisy’s hair, “Daisy, do you want to take a shower before you go back to sleep?”

 

Daisy shakes her head, she can barely stay awake as it is. “I'm too tired,” she mutters. 

 

Jemma smiles and helps Daisy unzip her jacket, slipping it off and dropping it into a pile on the ground. Fitz comes up beside her and he and Jemma help Daisy stand, he looks away as Jemma helps Daisy drop her pants and step into the sweats that Fitz brought her. He sets her back on the bed and turns his back as Jemma helps Daisy remove her tank top and bra and puts on the t-shirt. They pull back the covers and tuck Daisy into the bed.

 

Daisy settles in on her back and opens one eye, “Please stay? Just for a bit?”

 

Fitz glances at Jemma, who nods. Fitz removes his jacket and his shoes, as Jemma slips off her shoes. Daisy smiles and turns on her side. Fitz settles in behind her, and Jemma slides in front of her. It's a tight squeeze, but it's not like they haven't done it before. Fitz slides his arm up under Daisy’s head and reaches over her body to hold Jemma’s hand. 

 

Spooned between her two best friends in the world, Daisy is overwhelmed with emotions. It's been a long time since she's felt this safe, and this whole. 

 

It turns out, after all of the searching and pain, that the thing that she really needed to fill the void was Jemma and Fitz, was her family.

 

Daisy Johnson slips away into sleep listening to the even breathing of her best friends. 

  
  


*

  
  


(The next morning, she finally finds the strength to text Malory that next morning, apologizing and asking her how she is. They have a dinner lined up, date to be determined.)

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... so this happened. 
> 
> I love the Bus Kids. I love how they take care of each other, and I want to write about it! 
> 
> If you have an idea or a prompt, shoot me a message, leave a review, or send me an ask on Tumblr at the-cuddleslut.


End file.
